personal narratives . poems . prose

Muddy Bellies

We watched a chilly sunset together, the ice cracking in little whispers like gunshots far off, resounding between foggy hills. Like the way your breath lifts the little wisps of hair around my ear when you lean in to kiss me. We stayed there until freezing was reality.

Sometimes I wish you held my hand more instead of charging ahead in front of me. A long tall shadow. But this time I was thankful to have my time alone. To enjoy the beauty of the swiftly fading frozen landscape: beach turned to mud under the retreating snow, ice left scattered in gray-green pieces their muddy brown bellies awkwardly angled to the gray sky. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen a sea slowly destroy itself under the unstoppable sun, ever inching its way northward with each passing day.

2 days later it’s the exact same brown that will cling to my rainboots after a long afternoon hike. Except outside the birds will serenade the purple and yellow blooms shooting forth from fields that were never covered by snow.